


between bars

by staticpetrichor



Series: ACOTAR prompts [6]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, And also the first chap of starless sea, F/M, Mates, Tumblr Prompt, but like magic prison theyre still fae and rhys still has his powers, inspired by Tumblr dialogue prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticpetrichor/pseuds/staticpetrichor
Summary: feysand magic prison au!!my brother came up with the title and hes gonna be sad if i dont credit him so theres ur credit lance
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: ACOTAR prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429963
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	between bars

Something in his chest twitched as her eyes tracked his every move with the kind of wariness that could only be born out of pain. It didn’t matter that a barred wall kept them apart, didn’t matter that she thought there was no possible way he could touch her. She sat just out of reach, watching as he paced the length of his cell. 

They didn’t speak. 

He knew from a misplaced shout that she was called Feyre. But that was all, not a single word passed through her curved lips nor his split ones. 

She brought him things. Like food and water and, on especially chilly nights, wine. He never took it directly from her hands, too aware of the alarm that would light in her blue-grey eyes were he to touch her. Even something as innocent as his finger brushing her own. 

Rhysand didn’t need his abilities to tell him exactly what it was she was so terrified of, what had made it so a woman like her needed to work in a place like this. It was written all over her, from the way she held her head to the way she walked, one foot too far in front of the other like she was constantly talking herself out of sprinting away.

As days turned to weeks Rhys stopped his pacing. It wasn’t doing him any good anyway. Made him feel like a wildcat thrashing against the walls of a too-small cage. 

Feyre noticed when he stopped. Looked at him a little more intensely, a single brow arcing upwards in curiosity. She didn’t ask. 

But it was the first time that he wished she would’ve.

⁂

He wasn’t very good at keeping track of the days anymore. Wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he last heard another person’s voice. Rhysand wanted to hear Feyre’s, wished he would’ve paid more attention the last time she’d murmured something to the angry looking man whose shift came before hers. 

It was low and husky and sweeter than it had a right to be. If he remembered correctly. 

Fuck, he wanted to hear it again. 

When Feyre sat on her designated stool once more, head cocked as he ate the gruel she had brought, he couldn’t find it in himself to keep his mouth shut.

“Thank you.” His voice rasped unpleasantly, hoarse from disuse, and she flinched, just barely, at the sound. Then she nodded, all restrained and business-like and honestly that wouldn’t do at all. 

“Fayyy-ruh.” Rhys’ mouth turned the name over, dragged it out into a contorted purr of sorts. This time her eyes flashed dangerously and he suppressed a laugh. 

Yet still she didn’t speak. 

⁂

“My favorite overlord has returned.” 

Feyre’s pretty brows furrowed, pinched. Already agitated, no upset, if the faint tracks beneath her eyes had anything to say about it, at something unrelated to him.

Against all better judgement Rhys felt that _thing_ inside of him sting with concern. 

“What’s made that pretty face so very sad, love?” 

Her lips turned up into a snarl and he beamed. He didn’t miss how heavily her body seemed to weigh on her as she sank down to the ground in front of him, palms pressing at her eyes irritably. Rhys’ fingertips picked absently at the rind of bread on his tray as he began to hum some ancient tune.

⁂

The next time he saw her that some _thing_ twisted in agony, every bit of him screaming out that this was wrong, that he had to fix it. She looked as if someone had blown out the light in her eyes, had painted a husk of a person and called it a woman but forgotten to give it any spark. Dull. Empty.

She pushed his tray toward him. A small, wrinkled orange rested on the edge of it, the first sweet thing he’d been offered. 

“My outstanding behavior has earned me a special treat alongside your scintillating conversation? I’d say I’m surprised but honestly this was a long time in coming.”

A broken sort of laugh shattered the following silence and his eyes met hers in surprise as she said, “Didn’t want you to die of scurvy, that’s all.”

Her voice was so much better than he could’ve possibly thought, than whatever it was he’d concocted in his mind. Soft and yet not at all cowed, warmer than anything he’d ever felt before. 

“So you admit my death would upset you? I’ve worked with less.” 

And when she laughed again a feeling of rightness spread through him and he couldn’t find the strength to be alarmed. 

⁂

It took awhile yet, another week. Or at least what Rhysand had decided was probably a week. It took awhile to work up the nerve, to be certain she wouldn’t kill him when he held a hand out to accept his daily meal. 

Feyre placed it there, her own arm extended as far as the gap would allow, her thumb just barely grazing over his knuckles. He savored it, much as he had her voice, a small reprieve from his otherwise less than perfect circumstances. 

Much too soon she pulled back and that thing began to panic at the sudden suspicion, _fear_ in her eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The words were out before he even thought them, certainly before he’d thought them through. Because just like that he’d made a promise he would be damned to keep.

“But you could. And it would be very easy for you.” Her eyes ran up the length of the bars, down them, as if finally recognizing them for the pretense that they were.

“Yes, I could. Yes, it would be easy,” Because he wouldn’t lie to her, not about this at least.

“It would be the easiest thing in the world.” And at that he could hear the shift in her heart, how it sped up in an awful staccato beat.

“But I won’t. I would never.” 

Feyre looked at him as she had so many times before. Studied what she found there with such a raw candid expression that he couldn’t help but wonder if that _thing_ inside him had a twin inside of her. Finally something in her eyes steadied and her lips parted as a soft breath escaped them.

Her hand shot through the slot, held out for his own which readily clasped it. 

“I’m Feyre. And you are?” 

“Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys, darling.” 


End file.
